Steampunked
by Piccolo is green
Summary: When Bulma and Vegeta end up in the Wild West they are forced to put their differences aside in order to return home. Will they be able to get back to the future in time for the androids? B/V get-together with a twist! ON HIATUS


**A/N:** I have always wanted to do a 'those three years' fic, but I've never been hit with a good plot for one. Then my friend and I attended a steampunk day at a technology museum, and it really got me thinking outside of the box for what I could do with B/Vs. There's a lot of AUs out there that are set in space, but I haven't come across many (if any) that send Bulma and Vegeta into the past. Since I'm a history buff, I thought it'd be fun to give such an idea a go.

Just to clarify, I'm using the term 'Wild West' in the loosest possible way, because this is still set within the DBZ universe rather than our own. That means I will be using ideas from history, but it won't be an accurate representation of any real place or time.

So without further ado, I hope you enjoy this alternative take on 'those three years' :)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z. If I did, there would have been an episode titled "Yo! The Making of Baby Trunks! How the Saiyan no Ouji Made Genius Bulma Pregnant!" **

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><p><strong>One:<strong>

**That Blasted Machine**

Vegeta undoubtedly preferred the days when he didn't run into the woman. In the six months since they had learnt about the impending androids, he had found that the less contact he had with her, the better, for she was both irritating and irritatingly attractive.

So when he stepped into the Briefs' kitchen early one morning- far earlier than _she_ ever got up- to find that the woman was waiting for him, clutching what looked suspiciously like an important piece of the gravity room control panel in her manicured hand, Vegeta had a distinct feeling that he had suddenly walked into a trap.

Resolving not to pay her any attention, he merely grunted and pushed past her, pulling the fridge door open and grabbing a carton of milk.

"Good morning to you too," she huffed behind him, and he rolled his eyes, tipping his head back as he finished off the milk. He threw the empty container aside and began to pile his arms full of food from the refrigerator, thankful that no matter how stupid the woman's mother was, she had enough sense to always keep the kitchen well-stocked.

He made to move to the table, but was stopped by the woman stepping out in front of him, one hand on her hip as the other waved whatever-it-was she was holding in his face. "I want to talk to you," she said, her blue eyes narrowing dangerously. He glared back at her, giving her _the look_ that normally scared the shit out of people. It always worked on the woman's mate, but the woman herself was apparently immune to his gaze, for she simply narrowed her eyes even further, lifting her chin as if to say _'bring it on'_.

He growled under his breath at the display; it drove him mad that such a weakling would dare to look him in the eye like that. She was clearly suicidal.

"Talk then," he bit out, and shoved past her again, more roughly this time. He grinned as she let out a squeak, making a ridiculous amount of noise as she bumped against the kitchen counter.

"You jerk!" she yelled at him. He merely shrugged and sat down, beginning to consume breakfast. He ignored her as she stormed over to where he sat, placing one palm flat against the kitchen table as she leaned closer, clearly trying to intimidate him.

Fucking odd creature.

He reminded himself of her importance- she was needed to make the necessary repairs on the gravity simulator- and then there was the fact that he was not yet strong enough to fight off Kakarot, should the third-class clown take offence to her death, but at the same time he couldn't help but entertain the thought that it would be so satisfying to hear her pretty little neck snap in his hands.

He continued to pay no attention to her; he had learnt quickly that this woman was used to being obeyed and getting whatever she wanted, and that the best way to get under her skin was to therefore ignore her outright.

"You know," she began, just as he was polishing off the last of the food, "you'll never have the gravity room up and running again if you continue to pretend that I don't exist. I'm trying to have a conversation with you, for crying out loud!"

His self-control wearing dangerously thin, Vegeta stood over her, smirking as he realised his quick movements had actually frightened the pathetic little thing. Her eyes widened and she leaned back, her backside quickly bumping the table as she tried to arch away from him. He made use of the movement, stepping closer until their knees brushed, leaning forward in a way that was sure to intimidate her.

"I've given you plenty of opportunity to speak already," he ground out, "and yet all you did is stand there like the fool that you are. If you want to _converse_ then hurry up and speak, woman, but remember who you are talking to. I am the Prince of all Saiyans, and I could crush you like a bug. Believe me, once the androids and Kakarot are taken care of, you're next. But for now, if you value your precious parents' lives, you will not interrupt my training in that room. I was told the gravity simulator would be fixed by this morning, and I do not appreciate being lied to."

Disconcertingly, the woman did not react in the way he expected. Rather than cower, she became aggressive, her cheeks flushing red with anger as she pushed back against him. "Now look here!" she yelled, poking him in the chest. "I know you like to act all high and mighty, but it's rude to ignore someone when they're trying to talk to you, and it's even ruder to then go and suddenly invade their personal space! I don't care what you think you're going to do once the androids are beaten; for now you need me or your training will suffer, and that means you have to play nice! You're living in my house, eating my food, and_ I_ don't _appreciate_ it when you try to walk all over me! Guess what, buster, it's not happening!"

Vegeta snarled back at her, glaring into the bright eyes that were now inches from his own. "I do not have to do anything, woman," he growled icily.

"My name is Bulma," she hissed back, her eyes narrowing again, "and I'm not fixing the GR until you do something for me."

Vegeta clenched his fists, itching to just kill the woman. From the moment he had seen the hunk of metal in her hand he had known it would come to this, and he hated the fact that the witch had the use of the gravity room over his head. She was a conniving piece of work, who had even locked her father out of gravity simulator's computer system so that she alone could fix it, telling Vegeta that she did not want her father being pestered to fix the damn room. In reality Vegeta knew that she was simply forcing him into a corner, making him reliant on her and her alone so that she had leverage against him.

Abruptly he stepped back from her, and heard her sigh in response. Folding his arms across his chest, he watched as her eyes skimmed over his bare torso and down to his crotch, before flicking back up to meet his gaze. Her cheeks flushed and he smirked, letting her know that he had caught her little slip up.

"I need you to come with me somewhere," she said quickly, and held up the piece of the gravity room. "It won't take more than a few hours, and I promise I'll put this final piece back and let you get back to training as soon as we're done."

He narrowed his eyes at her again. "Where?" he grunted, at the same time berating himself for relenting to her request so easily.

"Somewhere to the West of here. I got a call from some farmer over in that region. They found what they said looked like an abandoned vehicle, except that it had the Capsule Corp logo on the side." Vegeta watched as the woman rubbed her arms, and realised with a frown that goose bumps had broken out on her skin. She was clearly upset about something.

"Look at this," she said, pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket. He took it, unfolding it to reveal a photo.

"That looks just like the time machine that kid came in," he said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice as he stared at the picture. He peered closer, his frown deepening as he noticed a hole in the glass dome on the top of the machine. It looked like it had been created from a blast, although he could not tell from the picture if something had blasted into the machine, or out of it.

"I know that kid went back to the future, but what if he came back again? He must have, I mean, how else could it be here now?" the woman spoke, and he looked up into her worried eyes. "But why would he leave the time machine unattended like that?" she asked him, her questions echoing those that were running through his own head.

"It looks like someone has blasted through it," he told her, and she nodded.

"That's what I thought. I told the farmer that I'd go pick it up today, but…" she trailed off, glancing up at him.

"You are concerned for your safety," he finished, handing the photograph back to her.

"I'd ask Yamcha to come instead, but he's being even more of a jerk than you at the moment," she replied, tucking the photo away in her back pocket before crossing her arms again. "Plus, he's nowhere near as strong as you, and I figured that if there is something dodgy going on that I'd be safer with a Saiyan than that two-timing pig, so what do you say?" she blinked at him, fluttering her eyelashes in the way that made Human men respond to her. He smirked, oddly pleased by the fact that she had so easily dismissed the human man in favour of him instead.

"You will fix the gravity simulator immediately upon our return," he ordered. "And you will upgrade the training bots. And build four more."

"It's a deal," she replied, holding out her hand. He sneered, stepping forward and picking her up in his arms. She yelped in surprise, squirming in his grip. "Just what do you think you're…" she began, before he cut her off.

"I am not travelling in one of those pathetic aircrafts again," he told her, remembering the torturous plane ride he had endured with all of those Namekians, just after he had been wished back from the dead. "Now stop moving! Your ridiculous hair is getting in my face!"

She pouted up at him at that, and he bit back a laugh as she brushed the mass of blue curls back with her hand, a look of uncertainty glazing her features. "It's the latest style," she murmured, and Vegeta marvelled once again at just how odd the woman really was.

He walked quickly over to the ranch slider, manoeuvring himself so that he could open the door without dropping the woman, before stepping out onto the balcony. "Now tell me where the blasted thing is again."

"The Western 1050 district," she pointed, and he took to the air. She squealed and clung to him, her long nails digging into his shoulders.

"I will not drop you, woman," he grunted, shaking her grip off him. "I still need the gravity room."

She settled against him, pouting and squinting. He realised that she was not used to the wind in her eyes, and smirked.

That would show her. Pathetic weakling.

. . .

"We're getting close!" Bulma yelled over the sound of the wind rushing past as she peered at GPS display on her phone, which was currently cradled between her stomach and Vegeta's bare chest. Over the past six months she had gotten used to the idea that he preferred to wander around in nothing but a pair of tight training shorts and sneakers, but even familiarity didn't stop the sight of the muscled alien from making her weak at the knees.

Now that she was cradled in his arms, she had to question her intelligence in asking him to help her out. For starters, the guy was a mass murderer, and he made no secret of the fact that he had slaughtered billions over his career as one of Frieza's top soldiers. He could, as he had told her himself, crush her like a bug.

So why was it that she had gone to so much trouble, rigging the GR and all, to make sure that he accompanied her today? She really was on a break from Yamcha, but she could have easily asked Krillin or even Son to go with her to check out the time machine, rather than Vegeta.

Bulma sighed to herself, trying in vain to push away the giddy feeling in her gut. It was possible, she admitted to herself, that she was becoming just a little _too_ interested in the alien prince. The fact that she had recently fallen asleep at his bedside, while he lay injured after the latest training accident, was proof in the pudding that she was heading in a dangerous direction.

Vegeta's smoky, smouldering attractiveness was something that she had been desperately trying to ignore ever since he came to stay at her family's compound. Yet every time she saw him her stomach would flip, her breath would quicken, and on some base primal level she knew she desired him. And how could she not? The man was built like a Greek god, his muscles upon muscles practically dripping with testosterone. Even the scars that lined his olive skin only served to accentuate his masculinity, marking him at the same time as a _dangerous man_.

And bad boys were, after all, her favourite.

She felt the familiar pang of guilt as she thought about her most recent fight with Yamcha- her on-again, off-again boyfriend had accused her of harbouring feelings for Vegeta, which she had resolutely denied. And that was the truth; Vegeta was a grade A jerk, and the most irritatingly arrogant person she had ever met. She did not harbour any _feelings_ for the Saiyan at all, but the question of whether she was physically attracted to the prince was an entirely different story all together.

She was so caught up in her own private debate that she almost missed the faint beeping of her phone, alerting that they were passing through the Western 1050 district. "Stop!" she yelled in panic, and Vegeta immediately did so, the movement causing her to slam against his chest.

"For fuck's sake, woman!" he yelled at her, his handsome face clouded in anger as he glared down at her. "I am right here! There's no need to screech in my ear!"

"Look who's talking!" she shot back, all thoughts of desire disappearing as she felt irritation begin to rise within her. The guy was a real dick; all his good looks did nothing to hide the fact that he had a less-than-attractive personality. She took a deep breath, blowing some stray curls out of her face.

"We're in the right district," she said with forced calm, "so let's just look out for that machine. It shouldn't be too hard to spo… oooff!" she grunted as she was slammed into Vegeta's chest again, the Saiyan suddenly diving towards the ground. She screamed and clutched onto the man for dear life as they headed head-first towards the Earth, her insides churning with the sudden motion. It felt like a rollercoaster-ride from hell, and she _hated_ rollercoasters.

She found herself being deposited unceremoniously on the ground, and rolled onto her hands and knees, her breath heaving as she waited for her light-headedness to dissipate. When the sensation of vertigo had passed she opened her eyes to see Vegeta's blue sneakers in front of her face, and followed his muscled legs up his body until her eyes settled on his smirking face.

"What's wrong, woman?" he teased, "Didn't you enjoy the ride?"

"No!" she yelled. "You… you ass! You could have given me some warning! Jeez!"

At this he merely chuckled, and Bulma felt her anger thaw slightly at the flash of humour in his dark eyes. It was gone in an instant, to be replaced by his usual scowl, but for that brief moment Bulma saw a lightness in his features that she had never witnessed before, and it made her heart pound faster.

Taking another deep breath, she pushed herself off the damp grass, and rubbed her arms at the sudden chill surrounding her. Now that she wasn't surrounded by Vegeta's ki, as she had been while they were flying, she was beginning to realise that it hadn't been smart to wear only a white singlet and denim shorts while it was still so early in the morning. Of course, she had planned on travelling to their destination by plane, and that would have taken at least another hour, if not more, giving the sun more time to warm the ground below.

She turned around, following Vegeta's back, and gasped at what stood ahead of them. The time machine was bigger than she expected, having only ever seen it from a distance before. But it was there was no mistaking that it was the same vehicle, except that this one had a gaping hole in the glass dome.

"Capsule Corp."

"What?" Bulma asked, stepping closer to Vegeta. She followed his gaze to the side of the yellow machine, and felt her breath catch in her throat.

"The kid was wearing your company's clothing, was he not?" Vegeta questioned, and she nodded wordlessly. He was right; the boy from the future obviously had a close connection to Capsule Corp., and it shouldn't have been surprising. After all, how many scientists out there were really smart enough to develop a time machine, of all things? Of course it would have been one of her own that created the time machine, if not herself.

Still, to stare at the words 'Capsule Corp.', printed unassumingly on the side of the machine, all the while knowing nothing about the workings of the craft, or the identity of the boy who flew it, made the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

"It's definitely the time machine," she said shakily as she circled it slowly. "I mean, we definitely don't make this model _now_."

She gasped audibly as her eyes settled on something even more startling, and felt Vegeta's eyes boring into her. She didn't meet his gaze, though, for she was too busy staring at the simple four letter word, accentuated by two exclamation marks, which adorned the side of the craft.

_**HOPE! !**_

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Vegeta snorted, making her jump. She shook her head in disbelief, pointing at the writing on the machine.

"That's my handwriting," she whispered. "The me in the future wrote that."

"Are you certain?" Vegeta asked, and Bulma watched the way he squinted at the writing. After a moment she realised that he wasn't yet literate enough in the Roman alphabet to be able to discern different handwriting; after all it had only been a few months since her father had sat down with him one afternoon and translated the universal standard alphabet into Roman characters so that Vegeta could learn to read Earth writing.

"Yes, it's my writing," she replied, and their eyes met. She could see the wheels turning in his head, although his expression remained guarded, and she wondered what he was thinking. The moment passed, though, and he broke their gaze with a small shrug of the shoulders. Then, in an instant he was in the air, and stepping carefully through the hole in the glass dome.

She waited for some sort of word from him, but the minutes passed, and no noise came from within the ship. After calling his name garnered no response, Bulma rolled her eyes and began to climb the ladder rungs that adorned the side of the ship, grunting as she hoisted herself over the edge of the melted glass.

It was cramped inside the machine, especially because Vegeta was bent over, actually _sniffing_ at the upholstered seat.

"What are you doing?" she asked incredulously. When he didn't reply, she poked him in the arm. "Vegeta! This is beginning to creep me out! Let's just get this back to my lab, and then take a look at it. Vegeta!"

"For fuck's sake woman," he whirled on her, and she tripped, falling backwards onto the controls. "I'm trying to figure out what was in this machine!" He stepped forward, doing the same thing he had done to her this morning, and she shifted backwards, bracing herself on her hands, which were stretched out behind her.

"You're such a…" she began, but trailed off as the machine beeped, the engine beneath them whirring to life as the ship began to lift off the ground. She whipped around, her fingers grazing the keys as she took in the controls. She sighed as she realised that she had only switched on the machines flying equipment, and grabbed the small steering wheel to direct the small craft back down the ground.

Even with her care, the landing was not perfect, and the entire craft lurched suddenly, sending her falling once more against Vegeta's bare chest. She grunted on impact, wincing as pain shot through her head where she hit it hard against his jaw. He didn't even flinch, and she cursed his damn Saiyan genes as she righted herself, rubbing her new sore spot. The man was practically made out of stone, he was so hard.

The thought made her blush suddenly, but Vegeta didn't seem to notice her sudden fluster. Instead he simply asked "What the fuck was that?"

"I bumped the flight controls. No biggie," she replied, straightening herself. "Now are you going to tell me why you were sniffing around in here?"

The Saiyan growled under his breath, his lips pulling back in a snarl. "It's been blasted from the inside," he bit out, his eyes glancing at the glass roof. "And whatever did it left this behind."

"Eww!" she cringed, backing away from the odd, egg like thing Vegeta was holding out to her. She took it gingerly in her hands, her eyebrows rising as she realised it was actually comprised of two identical pieces. "Ugh," she gagged as the rotting smell inside the egg hit her. "Oh, that's nasty. What the hell is it? Hey!" she yelled, as Vegeta ignored her, jumping out of the machine. "Where are you going?"

"Quiet woman!" he hissed up at her. "The creature may still be around. I would say that egg is fairly fresh, given the stench of it."

"Ugh!" she shivered, setting the egg down on the seat. She debated whether or not to remain in the time machine, but in the end decided that she preferred fresh air to the smell of rotting whatever-it-was that filled the cramped cockpit. Gingerly climbing back down the side of the machine, she twisted her head around to find Vegeta, but he was out of sight. Shivering slightly, she appeased herself with the thought that he would come to her rescue if 'the creature' suddenly appeared, if only to preserve his use of the GR.

She settled herself on the ground, leaning back against one of the machines spindly legs, and took note of her surroundings. It was a peaceful area, filled with birds and trees and luscious green grass, and Bulma felt herself growing tired under the blazing heat of the sun. She closed her eyes, only to open them as a thought struck her.

She frowned suddenly, squinting up at the sun. "Huh," she mumbled to herself, noting that it now sat high in the sky, marking the time as somewhere about midday. _We must have been here for longer than I thought,_ she thought with a yawn, just as Vegeta appeared again.

"There's no sign of it," he scowled, before she could get a word in. Grunting, he motioned with his head at the time machine. "Capsulize it," he ordered.

She huffed, pushing herself up off the ground. "Yes, your royal jerk-ness," she grumbled, brushing grass off her derriere as she walked around to the side of the ship where the capsule button was. Usually she would be inclined to bite back at Vegeta's attitude with something wittier, but she was suddenly exhausted, and aching to get back to Capsule Corp. The abandoned time machine didn't make sense, but given the fact that there was some sort of creature possibly wandering around, she wanted nothing more than to be back in the safety of her own home.

Pressing the capsule button in, she waited for the dust to clear where the machine once was, before picking up the single capsule on the ground.

She tried to ignore the fact that Vegeta was shirtless as he picked her up again, but just like on the trip over, she couldn't help but admire the feel of his muscles pressed against her side, just as she couldn't ignore the fact that he smelt damn good. The fact that she had to press her face against the warm skin of his shoulder due to the sheer force of the wind didn't make it any easier, either.

She sighed against his shoulder, breathing in his delicious, musky scent, before catching herself and looking up at him, terrified that he may have caught her slip. His face, however, was drawn into a serious scowl of concentration, and she sighed again for a completely different reason. The poor man really needed to learn how to lighten up.

The next half hour passed uneventfully, empty grassland and expansive forests passing underneath them as she continued to debate with herself about whether or not it was bad to imagine Vegeta naked. She snapped out of her daydreams when she realised they were no longer moving, and were instead hovering in the air.

"Why did you stop?" she asked Vegeta as she peered down at the ground. They were hovering over empty plains, and in the distance she could see a small town, the cluster of buildings all grouped around a main road that was, strangely, dirt rather than tar sealed.

"Because we are here," Vegeta replied, his voice sounding oddly strained. Bulma frowned at him, and he twisted in the air, so that she was facing a mountain in the distance.

"That is West mountain, is it not?" he asked her. She nodded in reply, her heartbeat pounding in her ears as she looked at the unmistakeable jagged peak in the distance, a recognisable landmark for all who lived in West City.

"I cannot sense Kakarot, nor his son, or the Namek, or Baldy, or any of those other weaklings. They are not _here_," Vegeta said quietly, and Bulma froze as their eyes met. She couldn't help the fear that snaked up her spine as Vegeta glared at her, looking angrier than he ever had before, which was only made worse by his quiet tone. She could almost feel the barely restrained violence that lay hidden behind his seemingly calm words.

They dropped to the ground suddenly, the rush of air making Bulma gasp and cling onto Vegeta for dear life. He threw her off him, his lips pulled back in an angry snarl, revealing sharp canines as he growled out "This is where Capsule Corporation should be."

"The time machine," Bulma whispered from her seat on the ground, her mind racing as she began to piece together the oddities of the last hour that should have made sense; the fact that the sun's position showed that it was midday, when it had been barely eight in the morning when they first arrived at the time machine, the fact that Vegeta could find no trace of whatever owned the odd egg, despite the egg being fairly fresh.

The fact that he couldn't sense Son, or Yamcha, or any of the others.

The fact that there was no Capsule Corp. in sight.

She looked up at West Mountain, her heart racing as she examined the peak. There was no mistaking it; it was West Mountain, and judging from the distance, she should have been sitting in her backyard, in the middle of the bustling West City. Instead, she was sitting in a sea of wild grass that stretched for miles all around.

"The time machine," she whispered again. "Oh. Oh, _Kami_," she hissed, shaking her head.

She peered up at the Saiyan with wide eyes, and realised that he looked mad enough to actually kill her, as he stood with clenched fists, his upper lip curled back in unabashed anger.

"Fix this," he snarled, and this time Bulma was only too willing to comply with his demands.


End file.
